Michiem, of the House of Woo – Page 2

I am death, a poem.

I couldn’t drive, because my body refused to stay seated, And learned to walk instead. Looking in any mirror a dead man smiles a wane smile. Only life exist in the present, but shackled to past, or fearful of the future is death. How many times should I kill myself to know Life?

Captive audience….a poem.

Watching this play is killing me. The directing and staging are terrible, the acting half-hearted, the plot unbelievable. I was tied to my chair, way in the back bleeding from nose and ears. But I pulled at those ropes, Until I became Free….

Southern Comforts….a poem.

I once lived in Florida, but never saw any gators…. But I did have a bible thrown at me enterin’ a gay bar. Nothin’ like that warm Southern Comfront, Where men are men, stuck in someone else’s closet. And the women can only make babies…. But I guess it ain’t so bad, sense that drinkContinue reading “Southern Comforts….a poem.”

14 billion mini mes….a poem.

The lecture hall is loud, many conversations, nothing discernible. Then all is quiet. “Today’s recurring thought is, ‘I’m not powerless’ Now repeat it, Again, again, Good! Excellent!! Now go out and terririze and conquer the day. Class dismissed!” And I’m more focused, Whole.

Old soldiers shouldn’t die in bed, a poem.

They say old soldiers die hard in bed, having no wars to fight. That seems silly, When all I see is war. Old soldiers, if you still have a heart, be still and listen…. it beats with sounds drums! Then….march….

I need a drink….

….but the wells are turquoise green.All the liquor is gone. Fallen buildings and crater,exposed sewage andanimal sounds,I can’t sleep here. Conversing crows lookdown upon me.

It’s OK to cry, a poem.

I cry about,the amount of polyesterin my clothing. It is often cheaply made,Overly glossy,and likely to catch fire. I cry about pass foolishness,often forgetting the wisdom thatit taught me. But I don’t know my beginning or end, and thats OK. I like to keep my head small, to ensure that I can fit through theContinue reading “It’s OK to cry, a poem.”

Wow, Civilization is still here?

Thousands of Russian troops and armor, on the Ukrainian border like some Civilization game. The US, distracted from within by it’s lack of honor, citizens losing their rights like rotting fruit. The homeless grow in numbers, as more chairs disappear and the music stops. Billionaires buy more super yachts and bunkers escape to, But thereContinue reading “Wow, Civilization is still here?”

Basic vs. Premium, a poem

All the cows and sheep, All the grains and wool are gone. Then we ate wolves and crows, then all that was left was carbon. We could not eat our money, I mean, we ain’t animals! Basic carbon is for the poor, Premium is for the wealthy. Basic carbon looks like two-day old oatmeal. PremiumContinue reading “Basic vs. Premium, a poem”

Hi doggie, a poem.

Hi doggie next-door. I wonder as you gaze at the rain fall, if you’ve ever been wet by it. The discomfort, the glory of experience being in it. Have you ever chased other animals for your survival? Likely not I guess. More likely, you’ve never, like your ‘parents’ never had discomfort or failure. Alas, itContinue reading “Hi doggie, a poem.”